A Crank Called Newt
by scifinovelist
Summary: The World's First The Death Cure Movie Fanfiction. Newt is rather acting strage, and so is the WICKD. The beginning of the Fifth Trial.
1. The Reunion

**A Crank Called Newt**

 *** PLEASE GO TO THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER WHERE THE SPOILERS FOR THIS CHAPTERS ARE. IF YOU DO NOT READ THEM, YOU WON'T UNDERSTAND THIS STORY. Probably. (EVIL LAUGH) ***

 **Authors Note: I do NOT own these characters, nor The Maze Runner series.**

 **This is my first fanfiction, so please excuse my grammar...and English if that bothers you :) I live in South Korea, and The Death Cure was released on 17th January here! Yay! (happy claps) This is probably the world's first TDC movie fanfic. (or isn't it? I have no idea)**

 **MAYJOR SPOILER ALERT: THIS FANFICTION IS BASED ON THE TDC MOVIE, SO IT'S 100% SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE.**

Okay, so I simply hated Newt **beep** (whispers) in The Death Cure movie, so I wrote this fanfic to save broken souls of fans of our beloved Newt. Enjoy!

 **C** **hapter One - Reunion**

While they were racing for their lives in the corridor, Thomas felt his friend's condition not only to be worsened but on the edge of collapsing. He was keeping his pace steady but his eyes were dull, unfocused. His feet kept missing a step, although he was trying to ignore it. The heavy limp he had since the Maze seemed to be on a rapid worsening. Thomas knew Newt was overworking himself. To save Minho, their friend suffering from who-knows-what, they had successfully sneaked into the goddamned city.

Thanks to Gally's help invading was easier than he thought it to be, but heaps of running and jumping around were challenging enough to tire both of them out. Newt hadn't said a word since they got on this floor, the bottom level 3. Thomas, himself, was not in a mood to have a chirpy little chit-chat. A stupid brain of his kept on squirming and throbbing, full of thoughts of Newt's infection and Minho's rescue plan. The reminiscence of Newt showing his arm covered in black veins replayed on Thomas's mine for a fiftieth time, making him glance at his quiet friend. Thomas was the only one who knew that Newt had been infected, so he knew he should be responsible for it. But whenever he tried to go near his friend bullets zapped and threatened him not to.

Magically, they were dodging every single bullet. Thomas and Newt turned left, Thomas bumping in the grey concrete wall in a rush. Now dozens of soldiers were frantically chasing them, rifles and who-knows-what type of guns clutched in their hands. Thomas roughly pushed hectic nurses and scientists aside, not caring whether they swore or shrieked. Some got hit by soldiers on their own side, once again falling hard on the floor, squealing. Thomas hesitantly looked back, only to see twentyish furious soldiers and Rat Man on their heels.

Suddenly, boisterous pop echoed behind them and it was the moment Thomas decided to turn to the right. Newt followed shortly after him.

"Duck!"

Thomas yelled, grasping Newt's shoulder and tugging him down. He immediately obeyed, letting his knees buckles and slide on the ground. Thomas craned his neck to see the savagery guards and soldiers holding out the electric shotgun, their ebony masks staring directly at them. Some were keeling down while others lined up behind them, making a human barricade. Rat Man barked orders through the radio, spitting when he did not receive a positive answer.

Eventually, he threw it angrily across the hallway, murmuring something furiously. A bulky man in the soldier uniforms approached the Rat Man and stated robotically.

"The subjects have escaped, sir. Should we send patrols after them?"

So they made it.

Brenda and Gally succeeded in taking the kids, the Immunes, away from this Wicked's compound, probably leading them to the bus. The Rat Man agitatedly ordered a couple of soldiers to go support the troops, cursing for the earth's sake.

Thomas felt his nervousness slide away a little, even though they still hadn't found Minho. At least they accomplished one thing. He heard Newt sigh in relief, grinning when he felt Thomas's eyes on him.

"It's almost over, Newt," Thomas told him assuringly, earning another grateful smile that plainly calmed him down. He glared at the remaining soldiers, still pointing the guns at their direction. "Now how the shuck do we get rid of those."

Thomas watched motionlessly as more guards appeared, now holding various unrecognizable weapons - a stick, a gun, and a net? He felt so ridiculous and defeated at the same time. His head spun, trying to plan out the nest possible action. However, even before he could act, a hand had already found the grenade from the pocket of a paralyzed guard laying in front of them.

Without hesitation, the hand clicked it on and hauled it towards the Rat Man and his 'servants', and it shortly exploded, sending electric waves and paralyzing them. Newt opened his eyes wide as if he didn't expect it to succeed, massaging his hand.

"Nice job, Newt. Let's go." Thomas patted on his friend's shoulder, again earning a small friendly grin while falling into a dash.

Lights were flickering. Sirens were shrilling. People were running. The world was spinning.

Thomas could clearly hear Newt's strained breaths and laboured footfalls, similar to himself. Newt was surprising keeping up, showing no sign of infections. Well, it could just be unseen because of the flickering lights but Thomas was almost convinced that Newt would be just fine. No soldiers were now chasing them but they had to keep running, they weren't certain about Minho's current location. Thomas kept calling out his missing friend's name, pricking his ears as if there would be a returning answer. Failing his anticipation no replies came, making nerves creep over him. The boots collided with the frigid marble floor, the sound of it being buried but the murderous shrieks of the Cranks trapped in the glass containers. They were reacting to the sirens, banging their fists into the glass, doing their best to break out and devour human flesh.

Thomas ignored them though, only focusing on finding Minho. Where the shuck was he?

He made a quick turn to the right but halted abruptly. Newt nearly crashed into him, tilting his body just an inch from crashing. A bullet hole was aimed at Thomas, its icy metallic surface pressing against his sweaty forehead. Newt took a step back, but soon the soldier threatened him he was going to shoot Thomas if he moved an inch. The soldier mumbled something into the radio, receiving robotic answers and nodding.

Thomas desperately searched for something, anything. His pupils darted to the ceiling, the walls, the floor - practically everything. Newt, too, was scanning the area, biting his lips slightly.

Then, out of nowhere, a black-haired boy emerged and planted his feet on the man's chest, effectively sending him flying away from the two. The Asian boy did not stop there, punching the man square in the face then lifting him high, throwing him with all his might. The man had been thrown weightlessly and shattered the glass, rolling on the floor unconscious and unmoving. The Asian shouted on top of his lungs as if to celebrate his victory until he turned to face the Thomas and Newt.

"The shuck."

 **Alrighty - liked the story? One review means a lot to me, so please review! If you hated the spoilers, I would really like to apologize, but I have warned you! I am a fan of whump stories, hurt/comfort, so please, I'm calling all the whump-lovers. :D**

 **-Major spoiler alert! Read this part before reading my fanfic.**

Minho gets kidnapped by Wicked at the end of the Scorch Trials, and Thomas and Newt set off on a journey to find him. Thomas, Newt, Frypan, Brenda, Jorge go to the basement of the Wicked, the last city of civilization. Minho is in there for sure, and the group approach the walls, unconsciously entering a village of poor, not-immune people. There, they get kidnapped by the Right-Arm, a large group of people who fight against the Wicked. Their ultimate goal is to colonize the city and kill everyone in Wicked. Gally's alive and he's one of the Right Arms, and he helps Thomas and Newt to sneak into the city. There, Thomas and Newt use Teresa to sneak into the Wicked's basement. This story is set off from this point when Thomas and Newt are in the building searching desperately for Minho, while Brenda and Frypan go to rescue other Immune subjects. - Well, this is just a simple summary. You'll understand everything after you see the movie.

And what's that **beep** word above? You won't be happy to hear it. Newt **dies**.

Well, I have given you a warning! TBC, broken souls :')


	2. Unfortunate Escape

**Author's note:** **Hello! I couldn't help but upload two chapters in five minutes. Why do I always feel like I'm being rushed?**

 **By the way, I have seen TDC movie FIVE TIMES. But I still can't get over what I witnessed in the movie. Prepare for the shock.**

 **Anyways, if you're new, please check the previous story, because this chapter will not make any sense if you don't. :D**

(I do NOT own The Maze Runner Trilogy, nor the characters.)

 **Chapter 2. Unfortunate Escape**

Both of them had been staring blankly at the boy, taken aback by his sudden appearance.

"Minho." Newt stepped forward, his tone quiet and unbelieving. Hearing his name, the boy's expression went fury to ease, letting out a sigh of relief. Thomas couldn't hide a wide grin as Minho outstretched his arms to hug his friends. They soon were hugging each other tightly, rush of relief flooding over Thomas, and his knees almost buckled.

"Missed you shanks so much." Minho mumbled, patting his friends' back. Newt was hugging him tightly, protective look on his face nearly making Thomas chuckled. Newt finally broke into a relieved laughter, his cheeks red with exhaustion. Minho hugged him one more time, who let out small coughs but smiled.

The hug of reunition only lasted a couple of seconds before a soft but menacing voice boomed behind them. "Thomas, you can't get away from me."

The Rat Man was marching towards them, fire blazing in his eyes. He held a lengthy shotgun, ready to fire it at any moment. His soldiers were shortly behind him, holding out the transparent shields threateningly. Minho's eyes went wide, instinctively staggering backwards. Newt stuck out his arm protectively, sending harsh glares towards them.

The soldiers raised their guns.

"Run, Run! Go, go, go!"

Thomas hastily urged his friends, the trios instantly picking up a pace. Thomas was in the front like always, repeatedly checking if his friends were following safely. A bullet missed his shoulder by an inch, burying itself in the concrete wall. The trios raced down the hallway, grunting and shouting as bullets pierced through the air towards them.

"In there! Come on come on come on!"

Minho hauled the metallic door open, hurriedly beckoning his friends to enter. Newt dashed in and Thomas threw himself in, dodging the electric grenade. Minho too swiftly threw himself before the grenade fried him to death, closing the door shut. After rotating a handle into a firm lock, Minho swivelled his head, scanning the area they had just jumped in.

"Newt, help me with this!" Minho called out, Newt instantly by his side. Thomas watched vaguely as the two heaved the metallic try and threw it against the door, not looking secure but better than before.

"What do we do now?" Minho nervously asked particularly to no one, hearing the bangs against the door. They heard irritated shouts of Rat Man, more loud bangs, then silence.

No one answered, as expected. Minho was scratching back of his head while Newt just furrowed his brows, thinking of a achievable plan. Thomas then noticed something strange going on with Newt, locking his eyes at him.

Thomas saw veins sticking out from his friend's skin, mixture of blue and purple. They were slithering their way to his lower cheek, already infected his neck and chin like a poisonous snake. Around his eyes were deep dark circles, his eyelids red and puffy. His eyes were half closed, staring into nothing. Why hadn't he noticed it earlier? Thomas wanted to punch himself in the face for not caring his infected friend, guilt scrunching his heart. Minho must have seen the veins on the opposite side, as he frowned and rised his eyebrows at Thomas. Newt felt his friends' attention on him and he frowned, looking at them back and forth.

"Is my shuck face too ugly for ya?" He snorted, making Minho chuckled quietly. Thomas let out a nervous laugh, still fixing his sight on Newt's infections. Newt seemed to be noticing the problem and shrugged his shoulders, turning away. "Let's just fix our bloody eyes on that door, yeah? They seem to be tryin' to break their way in."

Thomas and Minho switched their focus to the door, now being banged again, then the sparks began to fly up. Fierce sparks erupted from the gap of the door, dancing its way into the room. They were going to cut the lock in half. Panic once again settling in, the three searched for an idea, a savior, for anything. Rat Man's filthy voice was getting louder and louder by the second, impatiently barking orders.

Come on...think of something!

Thomas hopelessly looked around the room, then, found a perfect object. A gas tank.

"One, two...three!"

The gas tank was hurled towards the glass windows, shattering the glass instantly. It went souring in the air just before dropping in a blink of an eye, disappearing into the surface of the pool, hundreds feet down. The trios looked down, unblinking, frozen on their feet.

"You sure about this?" Minho shouted, sending an suspicious gaze to Thomas.

"Maybe." Thomas replied simply, making an eye contact with him. Minho's suspicious glance turned into an unconvinced look. He snickered, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"Well, nice pep talk." Minho snorted, stretching his legs ready to jump down.

"Yeah, we're all bloody inspired." Newt stated sarcastically, grabbing Thomas's trembling fingers. Thomas, surprised, turned his glance at Newt, who silently just tightened his grip then let go. Then Thomas realized how cold his friend's was.

Bang!

"There they are!"

The Rat Man rushed in along with his soldiers, his index finger of a trigger. An ear piercing screech of the door forcibly being opened were enough for the three to run, run towards the cliff, towards the fatal night gust. They dived straight down, just before the evil man shot numerous bullets at them, cursing. Thomas felt his body flail helplessly, felt raging air parting underneath him, engulfing in the breeze. It only lasted for a couple of seconds before the pain overwhelmed his body.

Splash! Splash! Splash!

Thomas felt nothing but sharp pain at first. Then icy cold water devouring his senses.

It was cold, cold, cold. Freezing enough to immobilize his functions. Horrifying enough to make him scream underwater. His body felt numb, and every time he tried to kick out cold grips restrained him. His arms felt like it's been grasped by strong invisible hands. He struggled against them, breath slowly running out. Inhaling deeply, he finally broke through the surface and filled his fatigued lungs with air. Huffing, he searched for signs of Minho and Newt, spotting them shortly.

Newt was coughing harshly as Minho paddled towards him, concern filling his eyes. Snorting that he was fine and just drank this shuck water by mistake, Newt paddled towards the edge of the pool, his blonde bangs falling on his eye. Thomas quickly paddled towards them, giving Minho a worried look. Only Thomas saw Newt's muscles stiffen, him wincing slightly. Minho tried not to ask Newt what was exactly wrong about him, not willing to offend his friend.

"Hold on, we'll pull you out." Thomas jumped on the land, his energy decreasing but he knew he had to push himself to the limit. He had rescued Minho, succeeded to run away from the Rat Man, now all he had to do was to meet Gally and get over the wall. His heart wrenched as he thought of Newt becoming one of them, the Cranks. No, he would not let that happen.

Newt grabbed the smooth edge pulled himself out, grunting in process. Thomas clutched his arm and supported him, helping him to erect himself fully. Newt brushed his hands off, giving him a wary look. Minho literally jumped out of the water, shaking his body like a wet dog. We were panting, especially Newt, whose lips were parted and breath laboured. Minho was eyeing at Newt cautiously, his arms slightly extended in order to protect his friend. The three were grinning and having a quiet celebration when the spotlight shone them suddenly.

"Shuck, now what." Minho swore harshly, glaring madly at the guards raising their guns at them.

Thomas totally panicked when four guards creeped out from the bus and aimed them, threatening to put their hands up and kneel down. His stomach twisted and churned - they had failed. All the guns they had picked up were drowning in the water, and their bulletproof suit had been torn and broken. Just as they were about to give up and kneel down, one of the guards shot the other three, paralyzing them completely. Thomas smirked - it was Gally.

Gally lowered his gun approached passionately, and took of his helmet. That was when Minho shouted - "Gally's alive? How - what? I put a spear through your - what? How come?"

Newt snickered at Minho's helpless expression and Gally snorted, giving him a aw-little-baby's-so-curious look. Minho, clearly irritated for being the only one who was clueless, demanded for answers, when Thomas noticed the soldiers running out of the building.

"We'll tell you. Later. Right now we need to get moving." Thomas said firmly, glaring at the soldiers jumping on the police car and reeling away. They hadn't spotted them - yet. If they didn't get moving, soon the WICKED would find them and send all the troops after them. Then there would be no chance lasting.

Minho reluctantly nodded, eyeing Gally in disbelief. They all soon broke into a jog, sneaking in the dark street, still fighting for their lives.

No one saw Newt's veins slithering up onto his cheeks.

 **Hope you all enjoyed! My English/writing is horrible, I know. But I do love them! :) Newt, supposedly being my favourite character, will go through lots and lots and lots of pain. (mwhahahahaha) So please stay tuned!**


	3. Notice - Important

**Hello, once again, it is me, a crazy crank uploading three...um...chapters? Stories? Whatever you call them :D**

I am here to ask the readers about changing the title. Please leave your suggestions/votes/opinions in the Review zone, and I will shortly follow your decisions! Vote between these five, and I will post an announcement very soon :) For this week, I'm going to stick with A Crank Called Newt.

Candidate No.1: A Crank Called Newt

Candidate No.2: Holding On To

Candidate No.3: Please, Tommy

Candidate No.4: A Crank, Or A Glader?

Candidate No.5: Sane Crank


	4. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I just watched TDC for the sixth time! The movie is never boring, with plenty of Newtmas scenes. Well, I heard that TDC is going to be released tomorrow in the US! After seeing the movie, hope you guys all scribble your broken feelings in the review section. My soul has been hurting for days now, but no one was there to nurse it with me. :'( Don't weep in the theatre - just scream, kick, crank-out. The Death CUre Page 250 :)**

Well, here we begin :D

Chapter 4. The Beginning of the End

Dark, gloomy apartments. Glistening layers of stars.

Dead streets, placid atmosphere, booming roars of vans. They all seemed to come in harmony, creating a soothing rhythm like an orchestra. Wait, what did 'orchestra' even mean? Thomas slightly cocked his head, questioning himself. Did he just remember something he didn't remember?

On Gally's orders, they had hidden behind the cement safeguard, leaning against them while ducking their heads. A huge road was right ahead of them and they needed to think of a good, achievable plan, unless they wanted themselves to be squashed by the patrol vans. The sewage, the only passage to the 'outside world', was a few blocks away, but the WICKED had blocked every citizen from coming out of their houses so that the street could be completely empty. The four had to trick the WICKED's eyes, outrun them if only to figure out how. Gally, Minho and Thomas were faces to face, suggesting a plan, discussing it, then rejecting it continuously.

The three were having a whispery argue when they were cut off by harsh coughing, coming from their right. Their heads snapped to Newt's direction who was a few feet away from them, leaning heavily on another safeguard, his chest heaving up and down. Still coughing, he roughly pulled down the zip and threw his head back, panting. His lips were parted, seeming to be taking strained breaths. Minho nodded to Thomas as a silent demand for the break and hurried to his friend's side, kneeling in front of him.

"How you feelin', mate?" Minho asked the meaningless question, his eyes full of concern. His friend looked ghostly, eyes red and puffy, where his lips and skin were deadly pale. The veins that now spread to his lower chin stood out more, its purplish form looking like an enormous tarantula. Minho certainly knew it was slowly killing him. Since when Newt got into this much of a suffering?

Newt gave him a weak grin before croaking out. "Terrible." His voice was raspy and weak - it broke Minho's heart to see the former co-leader of the Gladers suffering this much. He put his fragile hand on Minho's well-defined shoulder and squeezed it tightly, barely managing another sentence. "But it's good to have you back." Newt smiled, even though it was replaced by a painful wince.

Seeing Newt's hurtful voice shattered Minho's heart. Newt was one of the bravest, even boldest of all of the Gladers. He had never been ill, as his role was far from being sick, after all - he was always there for the others. Minho, suddenly missing the Glade so much, opened his mouth. "Me-" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Me too. Rest a bit." He patted Newt before erecting himself, biting his lips as Newt's head dropped and groaned softly in reply.

"From when was he like that, exactly?" Minho demanded to Thomas, who reluctantly avoided his eyes. "Answer me, you shank. You ain't hiding anything from me."

Thomas inhaled, glancing at Newt in the corner of his eye. Newt was panting, a thin layer of sweat covering his face, eyelids barely open. "A few days ago. The infection started off with his arm."

That statement took both Gally and Minho aback.

"How the shuck did I not notice?" Gally wrapped his head, guilt flashing across his face. Minho, meanwhile, glared at the ground.

"He's been sick from days before, and he came here to rescue me? You let him do that?"

Minho spat the words angrily, now changing the target to Thomas. Thomas opened his mouth to defend himself, but Minho was right. He was the only one who knew that Newt had been infected and wasn't Immune, but he let his sick friend come along with him. He should have given Newt a proper care - just like Newt had always worried and cared for him. How could he be so selfish? Guilt swarmed in his body - it hurt his throat, stomach, and heart. He couldn't even say a word. Minho snorted in fury, eyes welling up with tears.

"I will kill you if you let him die." Minho spat the words bitterly and grumpily walked away to grab his rifle. Thomas nodded silently and tiptoed over to Newt, who had lifted his head by the noise of the footsteps. His dark blonde bangs fell on his eyes, and he didn't even bother to remove them.

"Come on mate, we should get moving," Thomas called out, gently putting his hand on Newt's slumped shoulder. He, too, noticed the snaking veins - along with awful greenish bruises around them.

"Alright," Newt rasped, and Thomas put his arm around his shoulder and pulled him to stand up. Newt groaned softly and forced himself to stand, eventually failing to maintain balance and staggering forward. His form was limp in Thomas's arms, swaying dangerously. Minho took the other arm and help him take a step, and they saw Newt's jaw tighten in agony.

"Newt, give everything you got." Thomas tried to encourage him, locking his arm with Newt's.

"I'm not a bloody corpse, Tommy. I can walk." Newt snapped, not happy about the fact that most of his weight was being carried by his two caring friends. He attempted to move his legs to walk by himself but it was useless. Soon enough he had given up and was focusing on breathing steadily, even failing a couple of times. Thomas saw how much pain his friend was in - his breathes were ragged, body limp, and eyes dull. The most disturbing thing was the moan, the Crank's creepy inhumane moan that always sent chills down his back.

The next three minutes were repetitions of staggering, tugging, and stumbling. Minho and Thomas were doing their best not to drop their sick friend, but Newt kept slipping, nearly hitting the ground a few times. Thomas tightened his grip on his friend's arm, grunting in the effort. Gally was right in front of them, cautiously swivelling his gun. Patrol cars were zapping everywhere, along the streets, down the allies, even on the grass. The soldiers of WICKED were ordering furiously into the radio, searching for, of course, Thomas. They ducked as a lanky soldier, only a few feet away from them, jerked his head to their direction, his expression veiled by the ebony helmet. He whispered something into the walkie-talkie then marched to their way, electric shotgun in his hands. Right about the time Thomas heard the man's boots click right next to his ears, a boisterous bang echoed through the city. The four turned their heads in surprise.

Flame, they saw. Then smoke. Then people. Where? The walls.

One-third of the front gate had been exploded, debris were flying everywhere, launching on the Cranks pouring through the gate. Screaming and shouting were soon mixed together, just like the Cranks and soldiers battling on the ground like savages. The guards raised their transparent shields but it was no use against the soaring missiles of the Right-Arm.

Soon the street was filled with shouts of excitement, shrieks of agony, and shrills of horror. The four fixed their eyes on the savagery battlefield, completely frozen. They didn't know what to do. They simply had no idea. They were running away from the WICKED, heading for the Right-Arm, for the serum. But now the RIght-Arms had invaded the city, burning everything in sight. So the chief of the RIght-Arms had betrayed them. They never kept the promise of keeping them safe. They were firing rockets at no one. Cranks were shrilling madly, the soldiers were backing away in pure terror.

"They said they would just take down the WICKED, not the whole damn city!" Gally shouted in frustration, this deep voice nearly buried by the ear-piercing explosions.

"Those shucking Cranks," Thomas muttered, then immediately regretted it. He eyed at Newt, who sat silently, only his tired eyes darting here and there. His lips were covered with black, gooey blood oozing out of this mouth. His breathing hitched, sending small jerks throughout his fragile form.

"Hey, hey. Newt. We're almost there." Minho caressed Newt's damp hair, succeeding in earning Newt's attention. As if he had just snapped into reality, Newt's dull eyes darted to Minho, who frowned at the sight. The circles around Newt's half-closed eyes had darkened so fast. Thomas had the ungrateful feeling that Newt was not going to last any longer.

He knew, somehow, this was not going to end well.

 ** _Done! I guess my writing is not good enough to make you guys cry, but it's enough to make you freak-out. (evil smile) I'd appreciate every single review, even if it's just a one, meaningless word. I'd even appreciate " . ". Good luck at the cinema!_**


	5. Running out of Time

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I am back again, eager to make you guys' heart fall into pieces. (evil smile) For some odd reason, my English is going progressively bad, which I don't quite like. I forget the words, the grammar, even the sentences...So please ignore my bad English, I guess the writer's block is heading towards me...just like what the Flare is doing to our Newtie.**

 **Also, my laptop has DIED, along with all my beloved 'A Crank Called Newt' Chapter 5, 6, and 7. I had to rewrite the stories while whining about my miserable life. Right now I am writing with my parent's laptop - yes it's incredibly uncomfortable. Just forgive me for the clumsy lazy update. I really really really appreciate your reviews, they're the reason I write :D Well, this will be enough for today's chitchat, so here we go :)**

 **Chapter 5 - Running Out of Time**

Thomas was on the ground.

Newt was on top of him.

Squeezing his shoulders, pleading to shoot him in the head. Eyes desperately trying to gather shattered pieces of sanity.

Hey, Newt...Newt!

Thomas's voice sounded like a blur. He couldn't even make out his own shucked voice in such loud surroundings. Vociferous protests, rambunctious roars of smoke. Mostly, the uncontrollable explosions. His ears were throbbing, his head was aching. He couldn't stand watching his friend snarling, gurgling, losing the element we most valued, humanity.

Newt's red eyes were wet with tears flowing out. The ebony veins had already seeped through his skin and to his brain, conquering his beloved friend completely. But still, Newt wasn't fully beyond the Gone - he kept repeating this process like he just couldn't stop himself. He attacked, suddenly stopped, apologized in a harsh strained whisper, then attacked again. Just like a Mobius strip, just like a labyrinth. Just like...the Maze. Complicated, inexplicable, hopeless.

Hopeless.

Thomas's shirt was covered in dirt, and what disgusted him the most was Newt's blood. Crimson drools of blood were oozing out of his friend's parted lips, small cuts, and eyes.

"Newt! Please…"

Thomas barely dodged another accusing swing of a filthy fist, subconsciously staggering backwards. This fight was going to last forever if Brenda didn't hurry. Or one of them would die before the other one eventually does. I will, of course - Thomas thought to himself, peering at his fallen friend, again begging to kill him - die first. He just couldn't bear watching his friend let of the goddamned life in front of him.

"Tommy, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Newt scarcely huffed out, tears streaming down his cheeks freely. Gooey saliva was dangling his mouth, which certainly didn't bother a cranky friend of his to wipe it off.

"It's okay, Newt. It's okay."

Thomas tried to assure his beloved friend, putting his hands in front of him. Thomas was okay with everything that Newt did - even if he had attempted to kill him before the Gone, Thomas wouldn't ever blame him. Everything was a fault of his own, after all. If only he had given his blood to WICKED… Just a tiny drop of his… it could've saved millions, just like what Ava Paige had promised him. And Newt could have been one of the millions.

In a blink of an eye, Newt was on top of him again. Dripping saliva, he let out strained breathes, his gangly fingers gripping Thomas's shoulders. His knuckles turned white from gripping him so hard, Thomas had to rip his grasp off in order to hold Newt still. Newt's clothes were roughly ripped, some part shredded. His eyes were the Crank's - completely full of madness and bloodthirst.

But Thomas believed - or wanted to force himself to believe - that Newt still had the chance. The only thing Thomas had to do right now was to hold Newt still. Buy more time until Brenda arrives. Despite this fact, it seemed to be the most challenging thing to accomplish. Both physically, and mentally.

Thomas hoped, with all of his heart, he could close his eyes. Shut off his friend's pathetic sight. The one who had been the co-leader of the Gladers, the leader of the Scorch, the angel of Thomas, the glue for all people.

The one who he most cared, liked - and loved.

Suddenly his heart itched. No, it ached. Seeing his friend clawing and flailing his arms at him - was agonizing enough to choke him to death.

"Newt, please! ENOUGH!"

Thomas bellowed and frantically elbowed Newt's chin, earning a barbaric shrill from his raged friend. Newt struggled against his grip, but Thomas had the firm grip on Newt. Using his legs Newt attempted to jerk off free, failing again. His fragile form twitched and convulsed, and Thomas thought for a moment,

that Newt might be fully beyond the Gone, way too fully.

That was the moment when Newt suddenly stopped.

As if all of his functions had frozen, Newt jerked to a halt. His dull, grey eyes stared into the dim lights ahead. He did not move an inch. They just laid there, unmoving, having the most pleasant peace. A few confusing seconds passed.

"Newt?" Thomas called out in a raspy voice. He realized his muscles were still stiffened due to nervousness. His fingers were unconsciously digging into his friend's grey flesh.

"Newt? Are you...alright?"

Thomas called out again, this time his voice more clear and accurate. The term 'alright' did not seem to be the best to pick in this kind of situation - but he just had to ask. His stomach lurched as Newt lowered his head, his pupils meeting his own.

"Tommy," Newt whispered. "Tommy."

"Yes, I'm right here, Newt." Letting out an inaudible sigh of relief, Thomas loosened his grip. Newt lifted his weight off Thomas, leaving no difference since he was as light as a feather. He was now kneeling on top of him, Thomas's lean torso between Newt's parted legs. Thomas remained silently in his position, so careful that he might provoke Newt.

"I-I'm so sorry," Newt's lifeless eyes began to show sparks of sanity, slowly turning back to his typical, mesmerising brunette eyes. "Tommy, kill me...please. Or I will... do it... my...self." His voice merely above a whisper, Newt grasped a rifle. Without a word he lifted it to his head, closing his eyes and finger searching for the trigger, a piece of metal that would put him out of his misery.

"NO!" Thomas practically shrieked - snatching the gun out of Newt's and hauling it out of reach. Chills ran down his spine. He had just almost lost his closest friend.

"No!" Newt screamed. He tugged his wrists trying to get free of Thomas's hands, but it was no use. "Just kill me! Please put me out of this!"

"Newt, think straight! I would never kill you, bear that in mind. The serum will be here soon, just hang on a bit, okay? I'm here with you. Just...hang on. Please." Now he was begging. Begging so ardently he couldn't even recognize what he was saying.

"You don't understand a bloody thing." Newt snapped - his voice now back to his normal, deep, calming tone. Just pure hatred mixed in it.

"Understand what, Newt?" Thomas cautiously ask. What was it he didn't understand?

"I-This," Newt jerked his index finger at himself, pointing the dark veins spreading out on his neck. "was the last thing I wanted to show you. THE LAST. BLOODY. THING. You are the most precious person to me, who I most care about, and love.I can't stand this, just put me out of this misery." He spat out the words, each dearest letter piercing a hole in Thomas's heart.

Hearing those earnest sentences from his dying friend was so heartbreaking he just couldn't put up with it. He gritted his teeth and shouted.

"I don't care, alright? I. DON'T. SHUCKING. CARE. I don't mind your veins, your cranky behaviour - or anything else. All I care about is you! The shucking whole thing of you. I will love you till the end, no matter what. No matter how you change."

More tears spilt on the Crank's cheeks. His fists slowly tightened. Newt certainly did not want to live. He did not want to face Thomas after this. He hated himself - the veins, the limp, the meaningless life. Before the Gone fully swallowed him again, his brain finally grasped one last bit of sanity, and he managed a short, painful, sentence.

"Please, Tommy, Please."

 **Excuse my bad writing, I have been defeated by the writer's block. *sobs hysterically* I watched TDC for the seventh time today, and the death scene still shatters my heart. I'm still in shock while writing this sentence...Newt's death is just too much for me *sobs for the 10000000 time today* But most of all, thanks a lot and lot and lot for your kind reviews/support :)**

To be continued!


	6. The Last Hope

Author's Note: Hello, it is I, the angst lover. I haven't uploaded any chapters for a week, which I am pretty sorry for. I will try to upload as many chapters as possible this week!

 ***Notice: This is not a love story. No mpreg, no sexual relationships. Also, none of the male characters are in love with each other, but you can think this in two ways: Newt and Thomas as a couple, or them as best friends. I do not mind, it's your choices!***

 **Chapter 5. Last Hope**

*Newt's POV*

I couldn't see anything. I couldn't feel anything. Just my body falling into a deep void.  
I felt myself clawing at the body in front of me - wait, was it Tommy? I couldn't quite figure out. As if all of my functions have stopped working, I felt empty. Empty outside, empty inside.

Where am I? I questioned. This was my body, right? Why can't I feel or manage anything?

All of the sudden, I felt my body sway and hit the ground. It didn't hurt much - just a twinge of dull sting spreading through my side. My visions slowly cleared - then I saw Thomas, yelling at me. His face full of dust, blood, and anxiety. His eyes met mine. I couldn't look away, and I didn't intend to anyway.

My senses were returning to me, one by one, First my sight, then the pain. Immense pain, flooding all over me. I groaned, but my mouth didn't seem to let out that sound. Finally, I regained my voice and croaked out with all might.

"Tommy," My voice sounded too groggy. I tried it again. "Tommy."

Thomas's expression swithed from frightened to relief. I could see it, a rush of thankfulness covering his face. His lips moved to form the words, but my hearing senses hadn't fully returned yet. I frowned, trying to make out the words.

"...T's okay. It's okay, Newt. 'M right 'ere."

I tried my best to answer but all I managed to do was a tiny, helpless, moan. That disgusting moan of an inhumane creature. My consciousness sank into the deep abyss, arms flailed again, my legs twitched and kicked. I felt nauseous and...frustrated. Angry. I wanted it all to stop. Just stop. I grabbed a rifle from Tommy's pocket. Without hesitation, I raised it to my head and caressed the trigger. Finally, his ends now-

"NO!"

Tommy snatched a gun from my grip and threw it far away. My last hope diminished, along with my remaining sanity. My vision blacked out again, hearings deafened. My mouth moved eagerly but I couldn't figure out what I was saying. It seemed like a decade until everything darkened and I finally slipped into unconsciousness.

*Back to Third Person POV.*

Newt's movements were slowly declining. Thomas was almost sure Newt had run out of energy and was straining to stay awake. Where the shuck was Brenda at? Minho and Gally? Frypan and Horhe? He needed help, desperately. Right now. His arms were shuddering violently, demanding for at least one second of rest. Legs were sore from kicking and being kicked - and his chest kept stinging from the wound Newt's dagger had left. Newt was still on top of him. Thomas felt his body tense under his friend's weight. _Newt's certainly not going to kill me,_ he thought. _But he won't let me live, either._

Not until he shatters his heart, will he return to his normal, warm, friendly self.

Well, not until Brenda arrives. Thomas hadn't missed that girl so much, so much more even than Teresa. He needed her for Newt's sake. She would be running, shouting his name for him, vigorously searching for them. But it would be too late.

Thomas threw another punch at Newt, who gurgled vigorously and got back up, trying to choke Thomas with both trembling hands. Thomas somehow knew Newt was trying to stop himself from attacking him, but his sanity was trapped, deep inside, swallowed by madness.

Thomas was about to give up and Newt finish his line when he heard the most welcoming, angelic voice.

"Thomas!"

He couldn't believe his ears for a moment. It sounded way to sacred and heavenly to be real. However, the echo approached him slowly, soon ringing in his ears like an alarm. His names were repeated numerous times before he could register a figure dashing towards him, and he yelled her name, so frantically as ever.

"Brenda!"

She didn't waste her energy slowing down. Instead, she just collided straight into them, snatching Newt's flailing wrist and yanking it towards her, eventually pinning it down on the ground. Thomas was too astonished by this sudden event he just laid there dumbfounded until Brenda tugged his sleeve furiously.

"Thomas! Hold him still, will you?"

Her urgent voice woke Thomas's judgement up, and he reacted instantly, jumping on Newt and pressing his torso down as told. He couldn't be gentle, now.

For his friend's sake, he had to use force, even if he was reluctant to.

With shuddering hands, Brenda slid out the cerulean serum from her pocket, adjusting it vertically. She exhaled and held the serum still, eyeing the struggling blonde. Then she seemed to have realized something.

"We - we forgot the needle for injection." She announced blankly, making Thomas's heart sank.

His last hope had just diminished.

 **To be continued. :) Review, review, review!**


	7. A Miracle, or a Disaster?

Author's Note: Another chapter, yay! Well, I decided to reduce the amount of this cranky chit-chat, for you guys to keep the feelz. This is a Newt-Lives story, but I never said I was going to do Newt-Is-Just-Fine story. That would be so boring, right? No? Anyways, enjoy this brand-new chapter!

 **Chapter 6: A Miracle, Or a Disaster?**

How could he even forget such a thing?

He felt so, so ridiculous. Empty. So futile. If there really was God, he wasn't on their side, for sure.

The two were barely holding the crank down and there were explosions and flames and ashes everywhere. The time was ticking. Thomas, for the third time, had no idea what to do. Should he just force Newt to drink the serum? No, he would spit most of them out. Then what?

Newt was panting hysterically, begging to kill him in harsh whispers. Branda, who was holding the boy down with shaky arms, furrowed her brow in both sickness and concern. And also guilt.

"How come did he become like this?" She asked particularly to no one, jumping when Newt's leg shot up, still trying to get free.

"Hey, Newt, hold on. Just hold on...and...we'll...we'll find a way." Thomas tried to assure him, only gaining mad groans and growls.

Another boisterous explosion shook the entire city. They felt the ground shake beneath them, the concrete road slowly giving in and parting. The earth rumbled and vibrated - they looked at each other. The city was going to collapse.

Thomas's head was spinning like crazy when he heard the most unexpected voice in the world.

Teresa.

"Thomas!"

The girl's voice echoed, and he took a glimpse at the silhouette racing towards them, ebony hair fluttering in the swirling smoke. Her coat was covered in dust and ash, some parts ripped and torn off savagely. She practically slid on her knees when she arrives, sticking out an object which seemed like...an injector.

"Quick, I'll explain it all later. Just use this to him."

She was incredibly calm, almost serene - her face was plastered with blood, which thankfully didn't look like it had belonged to her. Without a word Brenda snatched it and pushed the serum into the needle, clicking the entrance shut. The machine activated instantly, murmuring a robotic signal.

"Try to hold him still. The others are arriving soon." Brenda ordered, pulling Newt's sleeve up to his elbow, placing a needle vertically on the lower part of his arm.

Biting into her lips, she embedded the needle deep into his skin in one quick motion. Newt gasped and struggled against their grips, his chest heaving frantically. He twisted and squirmed painfully, and winced, his injected arm shuddering violently. Brenda plucked out the needle when the machine made a beeping noise, informing that the liquid had been fully injected into a body. Teresa was also putting her weight on Newt's legs, frowning in the effort.

A few deadly seconds passed, and they could all notice that Newt's movements have declined. He was panting, closing his eyes, moaning softly. Suddenly, his eyes shot open, and his torso jerked forward into a sitting position. Covering his mouth with his good arm, he let out a fit of harsh, dry coughs, his body convulsing in agony. Brenda patted his back soothingly, peered at Thomas, and nodded subtly.

"Newt. Mate, do you hear me?"

Thomas managed a few words as Newt visibly calmed down, huffing and puffing but not fighting anymore. Thin, crimson veins in his eyes cleared, unveiling a milky pupil again. But the purple dark veins still remained on his neck and body. Not caring about the grotesque sight of his friend, Thomas bent his neck to meet his eyes, which darted sideways to meet his.

"Tommy," Newt whispered. Thomas felt his lips form a reassuring smile. Newt didn't say another word, probably out of breath. Instead, he leaned in and rested his forehead on his shoulder, exhaling in relief.

"Thank god," Thomas exclaimed, eyes moistening in relief and joy. He hugged a fragile form of his friend, wrapping his arms around him protectively. Brenda was smiling, caressing Newt's damp hair. Teresa was smiling too, lips pressed together, tears dripping onto her ragged jeans. Thomas couldn't help but chuckle - they did it. They succeeded to rescue Minho, and, although there had been major obstacles and injuries, Newt made it through. After what had happened, they were miraculously all alive.

What could be worse, now, right?

 **To Be Continued! Ignore my grammar, I'm currently trying to wriggle through the writer's block...which I have always failed.**


	8. The Split Second

Author's Note: Another update! Your reviews are very appreciated :) Last six chapters were mostly from the movie, buut from this chapter, the events will be going wild. New plots, new characters, new settings. New relationships.

 **Chapter 7: A Split Second**

"Thomas! Newt!"

Footfalls rang in the subway as three figures appeared from the corner, all on their fastest speed. Minho, Frypan, Gally. All panting hysterically and so worried, especially Minho, who dashed across the station like an insane bull and knelt beside them instantly. Newt had lifted his head from Thomas at the noise, turning his head a little to see his friends.

"Newt...is he?" Minho eyed Thomas, raising his brows for confirmation. He crept forwards, cautious not to provoke Newt. Thomas smiled, but Newt didn't, his expression so confused and disbelieving. Minho grinned widely and embraced his blonde mate, murmuring thank you a million times. Newt raised his good arm and hugged him back, still not putting up his old, typical smile.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Newt whispered, continuously blinking his eyes as if he thought it was a dream. His knuckles were turning white from grasping Minho's shirt so tight, and Thomas put his hand on it, caressing his friend's dry skin with his thumb. Newt reacted to his touch and relaxed, releasing the tension and straightening his torso.

Minho gently pulled away, his eyes watery and puffy. "Shank, you scared the hell out of me." He smirked, holding on to Newt's shoulder once again as if he would disappear anytime. Newt smiled this time, a weak, broken smile. There were scratches all over his face, his hand, even his neck - Thomas instantly felt extremely guilty that he even wanted to punch himself.

Brenda smiled, seeming to be proud of herself and her friends. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Much." Newt replied, adding 'much' when he got an unconvinced look from her.

Newt's shoulder heaved with each breath - he was running out of energy. He wasn't showing any state of pain but Thomas was certain Newt had major problems with his body. Hell, he had just come back from being a crank, what could possibly be worse?

"You look so cra- tired." Frypan stated, pausing before he used the slang 'cranky' and quickly replacing it with 'tired'. Thomas eyed Newt, who was now letting out small dry coughs, his body slightly shaking. Gally took off his military jacket and placed it on Newt's shoulder, who muttered a small thank-you before tucking it in between his arms.

"Well, we should get moving. Those crazy cranks are literally burning the whole city down." Gally uttered, not noticing Newt press his lips together at 'crazy cranks'. Thomas shot a warning glare at Gally, who just shrugged lightly, still unaware of Newt. Sighing, Thomas put his friend's arm around his shoulders.

"Right, we really need to get out of here." Thomas reluctantly agreed, double-checking to make sure he had a firm grip on Newt. "Newt, can you walk?"

Newt pffed, positioning his good leg beneath him and, to everyone's surprise, heaved himself up quite easily. "Like I said, I'm much better now. Just support me a little." His tone had returned to his old, leader-ly voice, just a bit weak and harsh. Thomas was glad. He had missed that voice, although it had been only a half an hour since he had turned.

Minho nodded and grabbed his arm, throwing it over his shoulder and smirked. "This reminds me of the time in the Glade, when you were so whiny and-"

"Shut up." Newt snapped, but there was no offence in his voice. Thomas could feel, although he had exchanged very few words with Newt, that he was so happy and relieved.

This was going to end well. Only a few blocks away from the berg, only a few hours from returning to the port. Everything was going to be okay now.

But he had mistaken.

They were half block away from the berg when the gust hit them hard. It was the cyclone of ash and fragments from the collapsing building. Those shuck cranks never stopped bombing all over the city, even if the WICKED had surrendered. Explosions and bullets and missiles were everywhere, and Thomas could almost feel ferocious heat engulfing him.

They all swayed on their feet, struggling to regain balance and move on. However, the wind was too strong all they had managed to do was just stand at one stop, motionless. Thomas felt his weight shift towards the ground as Newt dangerously swayed on his feet, his bad leg finally giving up.

Thomas's knees buckled and Minho was forcibly dragged towards him, and they were seconds away from hitting the cold hard ground.

Just then, a strong hand grasped by his arm and heaved him up. He tilted his head to see who his saviour was. As the hand let go of him he could see the eyebrows, those weirdest and shuckiest eyebrows ever. Gally pushed them ahead, shouting something that was swallowed by the noise of destruction and fire.

Thomas pushed himself forward - he couldn't risk losing any more seconds. The total apocalypse was imminent, there was no safety guaranteed even if they succeeded to find the berg. The WICKED might be searching for them, not caring if the fancy basement of theirs got broken into pieces. They wouldn't give up, they were the real savages, the ones who really had passed the Gone.

The seven of them all began to cut their way through the breeze, covering their eyes from the fatal mass of fragments. _Just a few blocks,_ _Thomas_ , He told himself _. Just a few more steps._

That was when everything went white. Black. He couldn't see anything, just pure whiteness all around him. He swivelled his head - or tried to - but his neck felt so stiff and rigid. He felt Newt slip away from him - and he alertly extended his arms, oaring his hands like crazy.

Newt! Newt!

Thomas yelled with all of his might, but no response came. He couldn't even hear his own voice. His throat hurt - his heart ached with fear. What was happening? Where was everyone? Newt? Minho? Teresa?

Thomas blinked his eyes furiously until his eyelids went sore and dry. He was about to run forward when the hands grasped him, and for a split second he thought it was Minho or Gally - but they were too big. Too frigid.

His instinct told him to run away. Completely panicking, he bellowed and thrashed and kicked - only finding himself knocked off his feet and dragged across the ground. The whiteness was starting to become dull - then he fell into a deep abyss.

 **To Be Continued. Next chapter, there will be a huge turn of events! Thank you for reading, and review if you enjoyed :)**


	9. Captured, or Rescued?

**Author'sNote** : Uploading another chapter, yay! And let me make this clear, Newt is NOT going to die. Well, he's going to undergo some tortures (mental/physical) but he's alive, at least! I'll try my best to make my chapters longer :) Enjoy!

 **Chapter 8: Captured, or Rescued?**

His eyes shot open. Then closed again instantly, much aware of blinding light pouring into his bare eyes. It was that whiteness that had completely colonized his body earlier, at the Last City - wait, where the shuck was he?

He recalled his recent memories, making sure his memories were still with him not brainwashed. He sighed in relief as reminiscence flooded back. Newt, the cranks, the fire, the explosion, the light.

The only thing he could see right now was plain whiteness. He wasn't sure if it was the light or a wallpaper. Whatever it was, or the source of it, he didn't really care. Thomas really needed to know where he was at. He coudln't allow even one second lying in this odd enviornment, and his legs were starting to itch, dying for movement.

Had he been successfully taken to the berg? Was he safe now? Where were his friends-

Hold on a second. Where's Newt? Minho?

God, too much. His head was spinning like crazy now.

It was so silent, and he was one-hundred percent sure that he was alone in this place. But he needed to check out - his location, his current condition, everything. With a single grunt - which sounded more like a squeak of a dying rat - he opened his eyes again.

Shuck, these eyelids were so heavy.

Blinking furiously, he searched for anything not white. A furniture, an object, a decoration, an huma-

Then he finally noticed a dull silhouette a few feet away from him, clearly a form of a human. It definitely was a human. Thomas narrowed his eyes to make out the form's face but it only made his visions swarm, dark spots dancing around his sight.

Well, shuck these eyes. Thomas eventually gave up and moved onto his body, which probably was laying on his back. He could feel strong but soft restraints holding him down - his wrists and ankles were immovable.

A few seconds of grunting and pulling passed - now his energy had been drained, him puffing angrily. He was eager now. His entire body was stiff and frozen, but nothing was impossible.

He and his friends had invaded into the basement of WICKED, stole the serums, killed the head doctors, took twenty-eight Immunes out, and saved Newt. Nothing could stop them - well, these shucking restraints could, but, no one could stop him.

Thomas willed his body to turn his neck when, all of the sudden, the whiteness faded. It was a slow motion that Thomas had pretty gotten used to. More silhouette began to emerge as his visions cleared, revealing grey wallpapers and - beds.

Rows of them, one after another, lined up perfectly. And there were bodies. They were all covered in blankets, but Thomas could see their side rising and falling. Finally, after all of those engrossing corpses, he was seeing a living body. People.

Then he started to wonder where this place was. A laboratory? A cell? A warehouse?  
Please don't be a lab, I'm shucking tired of them. Thomas pleaded mentally, adjusting his eyes to the brightness.

Finally, the surroundings were fully recognizable.

Beds, grey wallpaper, chairs positioned neatly next to each bed, luminescent bulbs, and nothing else. Except for a few essential pieces of furniture, this room was pretty much empty. No whirring machines, thankfully. No whining cranks, no blood testers.

Then he realized, there was a person right next to him.

He screamed. Yes, he screamed. Although it sounded more like a yelp of a starved goat than a proper scream.

Thomas gulped hard, trying to conceal crazy thumps of his heart. He had never been so terrified like this, but he was also grateful - he could interrogate this person now.

The person was sitting at his right, wearing a white coat, and a navy shirt beneath it. No name tags were attached, and if this person was a female, she must've tied her hair up, since the disappearance of her hair. Whoever this person was, Thomas had to ask things.

He opened his mouth to cast questionnaires when the person spoke out loud first.

"Hello, my name is Rebbecca. And I am your personal...assistant."

It was a young woman, her voice cheery and soft. Her hands were gracefully placed on her laps, her fingers long and pale. Thomas took a brief second examining this woman until he finally spoke - well, croaked.

"Where is this place? Where are the others? Who are-"

"Ask a question at a time." A woman cut off, her voice now low and ordering. Then she leaned in closer, her sharp nose only an inch away from his. Her reddish blond locks feel on his eyes. "You are safe now, I guarantee. Well, you heard this too much from the WICKD, huh?"

"What - how do you know them? Are you them? The WICKD? Who are you?" Thomas couldn't stop himself from blurting out the questions in frustration, accidentally raising his voice too much. And he immediately felt so ridiculous at how obvious his questions were.

Suddenly, an annoyed groan from his left reached his ears. It was a lean body lying on the bed, entirely covered in several blankets.

Thomas knew who this person was right away.

 **Another chapter successfully uploaded :D I'll try to upload a chapter every day x)** **To be continued!**


	10. The End of the Start

**Author's Note:** I can't believe it's Chapter 9 already. Seriously, I've never been this far in writing 'short stories'...and I am not a hard-working type of a person. Well, I guess I just love TMR too much. Credits to James Dashner and Wes Ball :)

Chapter 9: The End of the Start

"Brenda?"

He had never felt so relieved like this.

Hearing her name, the body wriggled and twitched, blankets sliding off and restraints clicking. A short-haired girl finally found her comfortable position and her eyelids fluttered open, staring at the ceiling blankly for a couple of seconds. Then, she gasped and jerked her head towards Thomas.

"What - you - Thomas! Where are we?" She asked him in a harsh whisper, her pupils darting here and there, evidently trying to search for an exit. She pulled on her restraints, cursing menacingly until she noticed the woman, Rebbecca.

"Who is she?" Brenda glared at her, stilling trying to free herself.

"You're awake quite early. I am the head doctor at this place. I don't mean any harm to you, you are your lovely guests." She said this sentence in a jolly, gentle tone, but it didn't seem to be working on Brenda.

"And where is 'this place'?" Thomas demanded earnestly. He needed answers. Now.

"We'll wake others up, and then I'll tell you." She stated in an official tone. Thomas didn't want to admit, but this woman seemed...nicer. She wasn't like the doctors of WICKD - he just knew. Brenda didn't put off an argument and seemed to calm down. She settled herself in the fabrics, enjoying the warmth for now.

And then, he realized his friends were with him, shrouded in blankets and pillows. None of them had tubes or needles connected with them, and Thomas was so, so glad. He couldn't make who which was who, but he was sure all of them were here. Seven beds, seven lumps. Perfect.

After a few silent seconds, a few more nurses had entered the room and began to shake his friends awake, earning grunts and curses and more questions. All the nurses were females, all of them in the same outfit. They shuffled busily there and there, efficiently waking up five bodies.

In a few manic minutes, all of them were awake, and Thomas realized something.

One was missing. The lump that he had mistaken as a body were just plastic boxes and packets. He totally panicked and started checking the members.

Brenda, Fry, Teresa, Gally, Minho. Newt.

Newt was missing. His heart literally sank. Brenda seemed to have noticed it too, because her eyes widened, giving him a shocked look.

"Where's Newt?" Thomas turned to Rebbecca, who smiled warmly as if she was expecting that question. "Where the shuck is he!" Thomas yelled, frantically pulling the straps. Minho, who was lying at his right, raised his brows and desperately searched for any sign of Newt.

"I will tell you everything. Now, just calm down, I'll start explaining." She was so calm that Thomas felt no use of arguing. "Alright, everyone, shush! All eyes on me." She hollered, thumping the marble floor with her stick. Everyone, all awake and fully alert, glared at the woman suspiciously.

All of them were wearing plain clothes, long sleeved, all navy. None of them had exceptional differences compared to last time, except the fact they were still firmly strapped to the bed. Whispers and terrified voices diminished slowly as Rebbecca thumped the floor three more times, and everyone was waiting for her to spill out the information. All the nurses had exited the room, and there were only eight people in this space, including the head nurse.

Once everything was sorted, the woman opened her mouth, smiling.

"Hello, my name is Rebbecca, head nurse and an instructor." A short pause. "As you can see, this is a medical centre. And this place is a main basement of the Right Arms."

Few gasps and 'what's echoed and the room, but soon the silence settled in once more.

Especially Gally, a former soldier of the Right Arms, raised his seagull eyebrows.

Rebbecca continued, still not losing her smile. "We have - had - a total of three basements, and two of them had gone down. One a month ago, then the second one, a few hours ago."

"They attacked the WICKD. They were putting everything on fire." Teresa said bitterly, shaking her head. "Was that your idea?" She didn't look offensive. Just damn curious. So did Thomas.

"No. The head officer of that basement ignored our instructions and cut out the communication. When we were finally able to contact them again, the city was already burning down. We sent choppers to see if we could save any innocent people, and that was when we saw you."

Well, that made sense. Thomas admitted. They were about to get thrown off by explosions and get blasted by grenades. To be honest, they were too slow to make it back to the berg. He thought he heard a noise of a chopper right before they were engulfed by the whiteness, but it wasn't important anyway.

"So where's Newt?" He asked, making sure his tone was firm and threatening.

"In...recovery, I'd say. The doctors advised that he should be isolated in order to heal faster. We will let you see him soon, we're taking very good care of him right now." The head nurse's voice was assuring, but Thomas wasn't assured, not at all. Their identities had not been proven yet, and he could not simply let them keep his friend away. They could be doing a horrid thing to Newt, such as what WICKD did. Blood tests, brain x-ray, that sorts of engrossing experiments.

He was about to protest when Teresa opened her mouth again.

"So we're rescued?" She asked the question they were all wondering for ages. Her hands fidgeted with each other, impatience showing visibly. Thomas couldn't hold still - he needed to grab the nurse's shoulders and make her spill out the truths.

He didn't need information - he needed truths.

Everyone stared at Rebbecca challengingly, who broadened her friendly smile.

"Yes. You are now our priority, our precious patients. When we gather enough choppers, we will all move to the Safe Haven."

Thomas widened his eyes - they did know about the Safe Haven, his final destination. If these people were real, the real Right Arms, they could help them for sure.

"And how are you going to prove that you're not one of them?"

Thomas demanded, shooting the most ominous glare he could manage. If they could prove it, he'd do anything for them, as a little thank-you for saving his and his friend's lives. He was unconsciously hoping that they would be real because if they were, it meant he was so close to a happy ending.

Instead of an explanation, she smiled as a response, raising her walky-talky. Then she ordered something into the radio that Thomas couldn't quite figure out. A few dead seconds passed, and he was about to ask again just as the doors opened.

It was the same automatic door that the nurses exited, and Thomas realized there was only one entrance in this room. It meant only one escape route if anything happened. Shuck.

"These people, are the proof."

Rebbecca proudly introduced, gesturing at the three figures walking through the door. The metallic door fully slid open, revealing the full shape of people slowly walking in. Thomas couldn't make out their faces until Minho blurted out.

"Aris?"

 **This chaper is longer than expected! Hope you all enjoyed, kind reviews really motivate me. All kinds of reviews welcomed. :)**

 **To be continued.**


	11. Back Again

**Author's Note:** Finally it's the 10th chapter! Thanks for all the support, I really liked reading recent reviews, especially the most recent one :) All compliments and feedbacks are welcome, just no curses or harsh shucks! Also, the new semester is coming and I feel like I won't be uploading stories frequently. I'll try my best, just don't wait for a new chapter!

 **Chapter 10: Back Again**

Thomas was completely taken aback.

First, he thought Minho had been homesick and mistook that person as Aris. But now, he was slowly recognizing a hint of amber, waves of fairness, and those mythic green eyes. It was definitely Aris. Thomas blinked his eyes furiously but the three were stilling standing there, unchanged.

Hell, it really was him. And Sonya, and Harriet.

"Oh my god, you're all alright," Harriet exclaimed.

"Define 'alright'." Frypan jokingly uttered and they all laughed, brightening this awkward atmosphere a little.

The members of the Group B were wearing the same as him - plain navy shirt and military black jeans. Their hair was neat and trimmed, tangles and knots gone, replaced with silky bangs of blond and black.

The crimson puffy bruises Aris had when Thomas rescued him were all gone. His lips were rosy again, and his speckled freckles were no longer hidden beneath the dirt and dust.

They look happy, Thomas thought. Maybe the nurses brainwashed them?

Oh, stop being so sarcastic. The other himself snapped.

"So how did you guys end up here? You were all at the port with Vince." Brenda questioned demandingly, raising her eyebrows.

Sonya, whose sleek blonde hair had fallen onto her shoulders, snickered sheepishly, seeming to be very pleased with their reunion. "Well, the next morning you guys left, us three were the first to find out. So we stole a truck, and when we were halfway to the Last City, these people-" She pointed at Rebbecca, who smiled back, "took us here. They told us they could take us to the Safe Haven, and rescue you guys, too."

"I guess we're shucked rebellious children, after all," Frypan remarked, and Thomas laughed, knowing what he was referring to. Brenda laughed too - they both had stolen a truck each, and abandoned them without even caring about it. A nice friendly gift for the Cranks.

"And how do you know if these people aren't lying?" Thomas inquired, still doubtful.

"Well, they saved us from the cranks out there, and they have some WICKD scientists as hostages," Aris explained briefly, and quickly added when Thomas shot him an unconvinced look, "Also, most of all, they never run any kinds of tests on us. Now that is a proof, right?"

Aris wasn't lying, Thomas could tell. This kid was trustworthy, since he shared major information with them at the Scorch, and saved his life more than million times. Most importantly he was a former member of the Group B, whom he had suffered as much as Thomas. He and Aris shared numerous similarities, and he believed Aris would never turn him down.

"You know where they're keeping Newt at?" Gally, for the first time, opened his mouth, and everyone turned their attention to that familiar low voice. But the voice was calm and innocent instead of old menacing tone. His seagull eyebrows raised when he felt everyone's eyes on him.

"Oh, you must be Gally. I heard a lot about you, you were some elite soldier there." Rebbecca commented pleasantly, and that compliment seemed to have no effect on Gally. He just shrugged and repeated the question louder.

"I was talking to Aris," Gally pointed out, and that didn't irritate the head nurse at all since he smiled again and took step back.

Aris scratched his nose, not looking so sure. He glimpsed at Rebbecca, then quickly looking away, fingers fidgeting. The young boy was hiding something, but he lifted his head grimly as if to announce something. As his hair shifted Thomas noticed his ears were flushed bright red.

"I saw his nameplate." He finally declared. "It said Newt like I just told you. It was locked and I could hear...him, so I decided it would be wise to stay away."

"What do you mean you could hear 'him'?" Thomas demanded, his voice escalating by the mention of his friend's name. Everything was getting on his nerves now. If there was one thing Thomas desperately wanted to know was Newt's safety. Was Newt even here?

Aris hesitated again and sighed heavily. His looked directly at Thomas, his eyes full of determination. Thomas widened his eyes to indicate him to start speaking. "You know, screaming, crying, and all that you can hear from a crank."

His heart dropped. Now he wished he hadn't heard those words. Sonya and Harriet patted Aris on the back, mouthing 'that was the right thing to do'. Thomas felt himself double over, his vision swarming with black dots and lines. The serum Brenda had injected into him, didn't work. Newt was a crank again. He couldn't believe it. His heart, still sinking into deep sorrow, wrenched with guilt and anger and resignation and-

"Newt is alright."

"What?"

Rebbecca repeated her sentence, smiling. "Newt is alright."

"What- How- how come?" Minho, his hand fisted into a tight ball, stuttered, fazed by a sudden rush of news. "Aris just said-"

"All he said is true. But an old truth. We were able to secure a few serum and injected one of them into your friend. He is still unstable and fully past Gone, but his normal symptoms are returning, so we're good to expect positive results."

That was the most wonderful sentence he had heard in his life. He straightened up and squeezed Minho's shoulder and Minho grinned. His stomach still ached with guilt and concern but his friend was going to be alive, alive with him and Minho.

"Alright. So I guess I owe you a thank-you." Thomas muttered, eyeing Rebbecca. She just smiled and gestured at the assistants charismatically. His friends seemed to have admitted and relaxed in their beds, and even Minho let out a joyful chuckle and settled himself in those blankets.

"We made it," Minho whispered in relief as he fell back onto his bed and shuffled to find a comfortable position, leaning a little to Thomas. Thomas grinned, squeezing the Asian's shoulder then letting go.

"Well done, shank."

 **.**

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 **To Be Continued on Feb 26**


	12. Without You

**Author's Notes:** Seriously, it's been 3 weeks. Can't believe I actually began to go to school again. Due to schoolworks and other stuffs, I wouldn't been able to return to a constant updater, but I'll try to make each chapter long and full. Full of Newt-ness. Thanks again for reading!

The room was dead silent. It had been 36 hours since they had woken up, according to what the head nurse had informed them earlier.

They had been released from the straps after they had promised to behave. The nurses had offered them drinks, board games to play, which took more than expected to learn to play methods, and delectable food. For the first three to four hours were just relays of questions, answers after answers. Then they all began to accept the current status and forced themselves to acknowledge the given information.

Aris, Harriet and Sonya had been placed next to them, bringing their own hospital beds to join them. Their beds were now shifted into a circular shape, ten beds encircling a large woollen carpet. Next to him were Brenda and Minho, and on his opposite side was Teresa. She never looked up from her book, which she had borrowed from one of the nurses. That really bothered Thomas.

Also, Thomas had just realized how colossal this room was. Their beds, labelled into an oval shape, was right in the middle of the room, stilling far apart from the walls.

"Sixty feet high, one-twenty in length. We used an old gymnasium to remodel it into this infirmary, that's why it's this huge." Rebbecca had told him.

For the next five to seven hours were a mix of playing board games, short chats, and boring brain games. The Gladers had no idea how to play the games and kept losing, Brenda chortling as they lost point continuously. Frypan was the first to learn how to play chess. He had defeated Gally, who threw his massive hands over his head, frustrated. Thomas had encountered Fry and was mercilessly beaten to point zero.

"What's the meaning of the 'checkmate', again? Oh, shuck, that's not fair!"

"You did it first, shank! Just deal with it!"

"It was my- Oh my god, you Group A's are real savages."

Thomas had never felt so happy and relieved like this. Nine of them joked, laughed, shared hilarious secrets they had in the Glade, and food-battled. The nurses cussed and complained while cleaning up the mass, but they didn't care, all they wanted to do was just having fun. Minho was quite a good joker, he had to admit. Every bit of his sentence made his friends double over in laughter.

After hours of laughing and fighting, they all had drained their energy and immediately fell asleep as Rebbecca flicked off the bulbs. Thomas tossed about in his soft, cosy blankets, wondering about their future. Everything's going to be alright. He assured himself. Then the most pleasant blackness.

The next day was pretty much the same routine. Fascinating breakfast, frustrating board games, more Truth or Dare, more insane activities, then dinner.

Teresa never joined them, obviously not willing to make the moods awkward. Everyone felt uncomfortable and betrayed around Teresa - even Thomas did. Well, she made her choice. He reminded himself. She was the one who captured and tortured Minho. She was the main instigator of Newt's infection. But somehow, he didn't hate Teresa. It just felt so wrong to blame her. Thomas decided to forget about her until they get a private time to have a serious conversation.

There was something more important that was getting on his nerves.

Still no sign of Newt.

Thomas convinced, threatened, and even begged Rebbecca to let him meet his friend, at least talk to him. But he was turned down every single time, and now he had given up. Rebbecca explained kindly that he was in recovery, just like what she had said last time.

"Newt is still in recovery, and we're tending his injuries. He seems… unsettled. We're trying out best to make him back to normal." That was the last thing he had heard from Rebbecca.

Now everyone busy munching away their provided dinner. The nurses sat next to them on steel stools, answering their repeated questions placidly. The head nurse had ordered them to settle in and have some dinner. She ignored other complaints while leaving the room, distracted by the control pads in her hands.

As others were devouring their food vigorously, Thomas didn't feel like eating at all, but his stomach forced him to.

The cooked beef was delightful, sauced with something like barbeque, and he even asked for a couple more. Baked beans, well, he could die for them. He hadn't eaten for over two days and the adrenaline made him forget the hunger, but the excitement had died and he just realized he had been starving.

Thomas was rebellious, he knew it. Everyone called him the insurgent, and himself kind of admitted that he was totally out of control. He transformed his thoughts into an action in seconds, not caring about the consequences. Newt had given him a good scolding for that, telling him to 'behave'.

Although absorbing food was pleasing enough to pull Thomas away from worries, he couldn't stop thinking about Newt. He once tried to talk to Minho about Newt, on what they were doing with him and when he was coming to join them, but Minho rejected with sarcasm.

"Shank, stop whinin' and feed yourself already. I'm worried about him too, but there's nothing we can do. Let's just stick to reality, for now, slint-head."

Hearing those words disappointed Thomas. Thomas was a type of a person that just couldn't hold back the concerns and jump into action. The least likely thing he would do was stay in one spot for minutes. He had to roam around the basement if he wasn't allowed to run around.

It was Newt. It was about his friend. Thomas was so sure his friend would need them, for mental support. He tasted death and loneliness hours ago and now they were keeping him isolated? Hell, no way. Newt needed them, and Thomas needed him. He wanted to make sure he was alright.

"Hey, Thomas."

A soft voice dragged his attention. He turned to see the owner of the voice, subtly smiling at the girl with cropped charcoal hair.

"Hi, Brenda."

She was finished with her food and was staring at Thomas with those clear, ebony eyes. Her eyelashes cascaded a long shadow over her eyes, which made it more gothic and charismatic.

"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself."

She points out, raising her eyebrows. Her dishes were nice and clean, drips of barbeque sauces plastered on the tray. Her navy shirt was already wrinkled due to rolling and shuffling, and Thomas couldn't help but laugh at that. She had taken down millions of cranks and know she was acting like a little girl.

"Why you laughing?" Her voice cracked as she snickered sheepishly, and Thomas felt a sudden urge to hug her tightly. For a thank-you.

"Thanks," He subconsciously blurted out, earning an amazed look from her. Two young nurses next to them, cleaning trays and gathering scattered napkins, smiled excitedly, already eavesdropping. "You saved Newt. If it wasn't the serum, he and I would be both dead by now."

A large beam flashed across her lips. "Your welcome. I'm so glad it actually worked."

"Yeah." Thomas didn't want to even imagine what would have happened if the serum hadn't worked. Newt would be fully gone, thrashing and growling at him. Thomas would be beaten to death, and when Newt would kill himself shortly after. That was so obvious but so frightening. Thomas suddenly wished he hadn't eaten - he felt like throwing up.

"And I should thank you, too," She adds, her tone quiet but passionate. "You - well, your blood - cured me. I would be cranking out by now if it weren't you."

"I just did the right thing to do," Thomas shrugged, grinning. Actually, he wasn't fully aware of the whole situation until he was forcibly dragged into a tent and got his blood pumped out.

An unintentional thing it was, but he would give away every last drop of his blood for his friends. He had no idea why he had refused to let Teresa take his blood, he could at least make her complete the cure. After all that they had suffered, the Maze, the Scorch - they were rewarded with nothing but another pain.

As they both went silent again, lost in their own thoughts, the young nurses chimed in, blabbering about how sweet they were together and how cringy the conversation was. Brenda laughed and joined in, seeming to enjoy having the most decent chat she had in years.

Just as Thomas was about to deny when the nurse confessed he looked cute with Brenda, a click of the metallic door startled them. Twenty of them, including the 'personal' nurses, swivelled their heads to the entrance, which was gradually opening with a creepy whirring noise.

Thomas had never gotten used to that sound, the screeches of metal sliding against each other sending chills running down his spine. His eyes focused on the lean figure stepping in, and his heart almost leapt out of his chest.

A calm, steady voice echoed in the now-muted room.

"Hi, Tommy."

 **Finally, here comes Newt-ness! He had been missing for a few chapters, I know. But trust me, Newt's here now, and the following chapters are going to be full of Newt. Let me rephrase that: Newt-ness.**

 **Newt chapter will be updated shortly. Please leave a review, it makes me write even faster :)**


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